Colours of the Rainbow
by inwonderland
Summary: ‘Red and yellow and pink and green, orange and purple and blue. I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow too.’ Harry contemplates his life, love and the colours of the rainbow.


Colours of the Rainbow 

Harry Potter/Nymphadora Tonks

Rated: PG/PG-13

'_Red and yellow and pink and green, orange and purple and blue. I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow too.'_

Red

When Harry was 5 years old, he thought love was a fairytale, all princes rescuing princesses, magic and rainbows. A true love, a soul mate, if Harry had known what it was, he'd have believed. All things sweet, was what he thought of love as, hearts and stars, very girlie really. But Harry was only young.

When he was 11, sitting in the hospital wing, a sling on his arm, after his first confrontation with Voldemort, he still believed in love. He thought he always would. He was discovering a new love of magic; despite all the bad things it had put him through so far, and would continue to do so for the rest of his life. He had friends for the first time, and was discovering platonic love, the first kind of love he'd ever experienced, and the kind he'd treasure forever.

When he was 15, he'd been through a lot. Voldemort had worn him down tremendously, but he still believed, but saw the darker side too. He knew that not everything was black and white; he saw the shades of grey too. He experienced the loss of a parent again, with Sirius's death, magnified because at his parent's death he'd been too young to understand. He grieved for his parents too. He had his first crush, and got over it as well, as he discovered just how fickle teenage love could be, how it was lust, and hormones that drove him to what he wanted. Or what he thought he wanted. No one knew what he or she wanted at 15.

When Harry was 18, his heart was as cold as stone. So much had changed for him, as he felt so much loss for those he'd loved. Platonic, parental, and lust. He didn't want to believe in love any more if it hurt this much. The war had been going for 4 years now, and it wasn't getting better, it was getting worse. So many people had died that old communities of magical people were emerging to help. Those that had fled years ago and started again, not known about or spoke about. They all came back as the lists of the dead grew and grew. Those Harry held close were kept safe at his insistence, but it was the sheer numbers that shocked Harry. He hadn't known there were that many witches and wizards, never mind where they came from. And now they were all gone. He was lost, and didn't know what to do.

But then, when Harry was 22, he fell in love. True love, soul mates, hearts jumping, skin tingling at their touch, let's have a picnic in the park kind of love. With that love Harry found the strength, and Voldemort was gone. It wasn't clean, it wasn't pleasant, it was murder, and Harry was, for once glad that he was The Boy Who Lived. He hadn't been in many battles; he'd been training for the last. Voldemort was his only kill, and for that he was glad. Ron had lost count of his, and had been gifted with a scar down his left cheek. Neville knew his number; he'd never tell. He was glad to have helped avenged his parents death, Harry knew that much. He was glad that Neville had done away with Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry knew his lover had killed too, but she was in the profession. Aurors, that was. Nymphadora Tonks or Dora as Harry called her. That was another thing that made Harry glad he was The Boy Who Lived. Only he got special training with Tonks.

Red was the colour of love hearts and blood, Harry would never forget.

Yellow 

Sunflowers were Dora's favourite flowers. She told Harry that the colour was to die for, a colour that couldn't be replicated. Harry didn't know if it was true, but he agreed anyway. He tended to do that a lot. He didn't know why. He knew if he disagreed, they'd argue, and he liked their arguments. Tonks went a shade of pink that her Metamorphmagus powers couldn't conceal. Harry loved it. He liked what happened after their fights too.

Harry bought her a gold chain on their first anniversary together. It was very fine, and had a dainty cross, with tiny diamonds. It was taken so well that he gave her earrings at Christmas, and a bracelet on their second anniversary. On their third he bought a matching ring. She said yes, and it was the happiest day of Harry's life. But if he was honest there wasn't much to compare it to. But even years later he still said it was. Tonks disagreed with him, and while she agreed it was in her top five, her wedding day was top with the birth of their children second, third and fourth. There wasn't a favourite out of the children's births. Harry and Dora couldn't have favourites; it was a rule in the handbook apparently. Harry often questioned the handbook. Dora just smiled mysteriously, and winked at him. Harry didn't mind.

Pink 

Pink was the most common colour Dora had her hair. Harry liked it when she left it natural, and didn't conceal what she really looked like. But she only did that at night, and during pregnancies. Despite her appearances, she was very self-conscious, and nothing Harry could do or say would help her. She was too used to looking different now. Harry didn't mind really. He could always tell when it was his wife. Now, as they grew older, she tended not to change too much, just minor details that bugged her. Her hair colour. Her nose. The birth mark on her neck.

When she kept the charms off she had long bluish-black hair, pale skin and blue eyes. She looked like her mother, Andromeda and cousin, Sirius. When she had blonde hair she looked eerily like Draco Malfoy. After that, Harry asked her not to have her hair that light again. She laughed at him, and agreed.

Pink was the colour of their first daughter's hair. Their first child was a boy, Alfie. He had bluish-black hair, and green eyes. He wasn't a Metamorphmagus. When their daughter, Ella had been born, she had pink hair. It gradually changed black, and her eyes from blue to green, but they could safely assume she was a Metamorphmagus. Their third child, Scarlett, had black hair and green eyes, and she too was a Metamorphmagus, but they only found out when she was a couple of days old. She changed herself scarlet crying, and that was how she got her name.

Green 

Harry's eyes had always been the most appealing feature about him. Tonks said that they were what really attracted him to her. Of course that hadn't been the only thing. But she did love his eyes.

Green was the colour of the Killing Curse, the bane of Harry's life. It was the exact same colour as his eyes. Other people saw some sense of irony in it. Harry just swore a lot. He didn't know why it had happened. It was a spectacular rendition of Sod's Law. Harry felt that someone up there had decided he hadn't had a bad enough time already, all the loss and pain, and decided to curse him with eyes the colour of death. Tonks told him he was exaggerating more that ever before, and that his eyes weren't the colour of death, they were just very green, and pretty, and could he see death in his children's eyes? He shook his head. He only saw hope. He answered the question he didn't know he was asking. He wasn't condemning his children for being who he was, they weren't going to suffer. They would just have green eyes.

Orange 

Ron's hair was always described as red. Harry thought it was orange. He still was taller than average, and with a mop of orange hair, he was easy to see. In battle or Diagon Alley. Ron had been at the Final Battle; Harry had been able to keep track of him easily. Ron resented being kept track of, he had more battle experience than Harry would ever care to experience, but he appreciated the sentiment. Apparently. Ron had been injured in battle many times. He was littered with scars; the worst being from a poison tipped dagger that had left a deep cut down his face. He wore it proudly. It was a reminder, for himself and others of what he had done for the world.

His other best friend, Hermione, despite what everyone thought would happen, did not marry Ron. They were together for a while, but decided they were better as friends. Now, as Harry was celebrating his second daughter's birth and Ron was celebrating his engagement to Pansy Parkinson. She was the only Slytherin who had turned that year. There had been a couple of others who had no intention of being Death Eaters anyway, and were lost to Voldemorts followers. Ron's opinion on her had been completely reversed when he actually spoke to her. Quite a good thing really. Hermione was still single. She couldn't find anyone that met up to her standards and perfection. She'd confided to Harry that she'd never met anyone that met up to her first love and he'd died in the war. She didn't tell him he'd been killed while spying, something he'd resumed after Voldemort's resurrection. No one actually knew who it was. They never would. Hermione had every intention of keeping it to herself forever, so no one could ever ruin her memory of him, and she could remember him how she wanted. Not as a Death Eater, which was what history condemned him to be.

Purple 

Harry and Dora's home life was never the same. They had their evening routine, dinner at six, kids in bed by half past eight, getting later as they grew older. Days were never the same. The time they had as a family was Harry's favourite and he never would forget it. With the kids at Hogwarts, time as a family became more coveted. The little time they had was fantastic. They visited everywhere and anywhere. They were grateful for the experiences Harry and Dora never had. The kids were never embarrassed by being out in public with their parents like Ron's children were. Except when Harry sang. Or Tonks went out in public with her hair flashing purple and pink.

Blue 

Harry didn't want anyone to feel sad, ever. He just didn't like it. He knew it was hypocritical, and that he'd spent many hours as a younger man feeling blue. Now it was different. His children were growing up, at Hogwarts, full of woes that would pale into the distance almost as soon as they were found. He and Dora always did their best to stop it. He hoped they appreciated it, as he would have if he had been subjected to the same parental concern, love.

Now, Harry was happy. Years had passed and his life had changed. The aftermath of the war was still obvious, memorials once a year, tributes in Diagon Alley and a small Wizarding population, that had at last begun to grow after the devastating losses if had faced.

Harry looked at his wife as she slept. She didn't wake up to the raging storm outside. Harry was still mystified how it could be the middle of July and a thunderstorm. It was just British weather. They only ever had a week of summer, in some obscure month like October. She had no disguises on as she slept, and Harry appreciated the time he took to memorise her face. He heard a scuffling out side their door. He frowned slightly, and swung his legs out of the bed. Dora stirred. He opened the door. Scarlett stood there, chewing her lip.

"OK?" He asked, brushing her unruly hair from her face.

"No…" she said. Harry nodded.

"Hot chocolate? I've hidden marshmallows. I'll get them out. Don't tell your Mum."

"Thanks Dad." She smiled, and jumped at the thunder crashing around their house.

Two more doors opened, and Alfie and Ella looked out. They had hopeful looks on their sleepy faces. Harry rolled his eyes. He put his finger to his lips, "Don't wake your Mum."

"Too late."

Harry grinned sheepishly. Tonks rolled her eyes at him, and swept her hair into a ponytail with the band around her wrist.

"I'll make hot chocolate. We all know your Dad'll burn it," she said cheekily. Harry looked innocent. She carried on, "I never knew it was possible to burn hot chocolate. He proved me wrong."

Ella laughed, "You're never wrong." She was going into her 6th Year at Hogwarts now. She was a young woman now, Harry recognised ruefully. Alfie was in his 7th Year, a man in his own right, while Scarlett, their baby, was starting her 2nd Year in September.

"That's true," Tonks agreed.

Harry and Alfie rolled their eyes. They started down the staircase, Ella absently running her fingers through her hair. Alfie kept tapping Scarlett on the shoulder, and dodging as she swatted him. Harry and Tonks joined hands, and followed their little family down. Harry smiled. He wouldn't change his family for the world.


End file.
